Dagan’s jaw clamped down at the bastard’swarning.
If Shae found out about this, she’d give herself up in a heartbeat. Not only was her friend’s life on the line, but the families of the Guardians’ mates,too.
He frowned at the note in his hand, and it finally registered. He couldn’t pick up shit—his ability was dead like a damndoorknob.
A shimmer in the air, and Michael appeared. His eyes glowed silver as he looked at the crucified male. Dagan showed him the note while Blaéz eased the huge steel nails out of the unconscious man’s limbs and laid him on thefloor.
“Everything’s blurry; can’t pick up a reading,” Dagansaid.
His features cast in steel, Michael knelt beside the human and swept his palm down his body. An eerie, silvery-white light, almost like a shroud, coalesced around the man as the Arc started thehealing.
Dagan pulled his mind back to the job at hand. With little hope, he tracked for the psychic signature of the one responsible for this torture. A faint flicker of fury touched him. “I’m going to follow the trail, I can still feel the energy of whoever didthis.”
He headed for the door, his stomach constricting in hunger, reminding him that he had to go feed. As soon as he checked out the trail, hewould.
As he traversed the alley, thousands of heartbeats crowded his head, the draw tugging him. His fangs throbbed at the temptation. Dammit. He fell against the wall, breathing hard, fighting for control. Before he went on a rampage, with shaky hands, he pulled out a cigar, lit the thing, and inhaleddeeply.
A few minutes later, his hunger dulled, he cut through a thoroughfare into another grimy backstreet. The psychic vibration had gonecold.
About to head back to Blaéz and Michael, a piercing pain tore into his abs, and he stumbled backward. Cursing, Dagan yanked the sword free, but his palms stung as if acid were eating his flesh.What the hell?He flung the weaponaway.
“Did you think I didn’t know which of you assholes had my mate?” A tall, familiar blond emerged from the shadows.Aza.
“She’s not yours. She will never be,” Dagan snapped, his vision blurring a little. “How did you trick her into gettingbranded?”
Aza ignored that and circled Dagan. “The mighty Guardian, now at mymercy.”
“You marked her against her will—” He wavered, but steadied just as fast. “I’m going to kill you forthat.”
The Fallen slid his hands into his pockets and laughed. “Strange, I’m here, and you’re fumbling around like a feeble human. Feeling a little frail there, Guardian? It hurts, doesn’t it? You see, that’s an angel’s blade spelled with demon’s blood. Can’t heal that in a hurry,vampire.”
Dagan leaped for the bastard, but he shimmered away. Something else about the Fallen nagged at Dagan, and it wasn’t just him brandingShae.
A cacophony erupted deeper in the alley. Harsh grunts and snarls drifted to Dagan. A familiar flash of swords briefly brightened the alley. The other warriorsappeared.
“Pity my fun’s cut short,” Aza drawled, reforming again. “Those blood-demons are hungry—you should be right at home with them. But know this, Guardian, Shae is mine. I will get her back.” In a flash, Azavanished.
Dagan snarled in frustration, wanting to go after the bastard. But with his Guardian oath too ingrained, he stumbled down the alley instead. He summoned his sword and dove into the horde, his weapon swinging—fuck! He faltered, pain gouging him as he stretched his injuredmuscles.
Shield, Aethan’s voice drifted into his mind. At the familiar wave of white light flowing out from the middle of the chaos, demoniis scattered from Aethan like roaches. Dagan stood there. He couldn’t move, couldn’t dematerialize. His ability didn’t worked. He shut hiseyes.
“Dammit, Dag!” Tough arms snatched him away from certain death and dematerialized them to a rooftop. As they took corporeal form, Dagan slid to the cementedfloor.
His chest heaving, Týr faced him, his obsidian sword still in his hand, the moon highlighting the concern on his face. His nostrils flared, and then he lowered to his heels and pulled up Dagan’s t-shirt, exposing his abs and the wound Aza had inflicted. Before Dagan could stop him, Týr ripped off the dressing on his side. Horror darkened his face. “This demon-bolt wound is days old. You’re nothealing?”
Struggling to breathe through the excruciating pain, Dagan pulled his shirt down and closed his eyes. What could he say to the one person he didn’t want seeing him this way? He wasn’t healing because his abilities were now dead and he needed atruefeed? Yeah,right.
“Dammit, Dag,” Týr shook him. “Tell me what the hell todo.”
He forced his eyelids open. “You can’t do anything. The blade was…it’s nothing. The Fallen bastard wants Shae back.” Then he finally said the words, “If anything happens to me, ask Nik to keep hersafe.”
Týr’s expression tightened at the shutdown of Dagan not asking him for help, but he’d trusted Týr once. The pain still lived inhim.
“Well…” Týr retorted, “I would, but seeing as it’s a soul-joining, maybe you’d want to give her a last message, too, before she joinsyou?”
Fuck, he’d forgotten about that. He bit back a pained groan and pressed a hand to the newwound.
“Here.” Týr held out a thick wrist, stunning all hell out of him. “You need blood, takemine.”
